


An Unlikely Match

by CaliHart



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Phil Coulson, Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha Winter Soldier, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Beta Clint Barton, Bonding, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Choking, Cuddling & Snuggling, Finger Sucking, Happy Ending, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mating Bites, Offscreen Interrogation, Outdoor Sex, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Rut, Scent Marking, Semi-Public Sex, Sex in a Prison Cell, Spit As Lube, Steve/Bucky/Clint if you squint, Subdrop, Under-negotiated Kink, vague medical stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-21
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-06-30 17:55:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15756801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaliHart/pseuds/CaliHart
Summary: Clint knows it's dangerous to seek out the Winter Soldier for quick, furtive sex in rooftops and back alleys during or after the Soldier's missions, but he can't seem to stay away. Eventually the Soldier gets captured by SHIELD, and it doesn't take long for Clint to decide what he needs to do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written over a month ago. It's not quite finished because real life threw me several curveballs in succession and I'm currently homeless. The second chapter will not be posted for a while, I need time to figure out where I was going with it and finish and edit it. This fic is (so far) unbetad, my usual beta isn't into it and I haven't found a new one yet.

Clint makes his way up to the roof, making no attempt to hide his approach. When he gets there, the Soldier is nowhere to be found. Clint rubs the back of his neck and props his other hand on his hip. “Aw, come on, where’d you go?” he asks the sky. He glances around the roof and then drops his arms with a sigh. As soon as he does, there is a whisper of air, and then a body presses against his back, a metal hand wrapping around his throat and a gun pressing to the back of his neck. “Oh, there you are. I knew you hadn’t left,” he says, leaning back slightly. The gun presses harder into his neck.

“It’s okay,” he says soothingly. “I don’t have you bugged or tracked. I just know what kinda missions you take, where you might end up, where to watch for you. Search enough shadows on rooftops, and I eventually find you.” He doesn’t get a response to that, and Clint sighs.

“You don’t remember, do you? You’re probably wondering why I’m here, how I found you. I might even be a little familiar to you, and you don’t know why, right?” The gun dips just sightly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. I can show you, help you to remember.” As soon as his hands move, the one around his throat tightens, making him choke before he leans back against the chest behind him, easing some of the pressure.

“I’m not going for a weapon, promise. I’m just gonna loosen my clothes, okay?” Clint waits a moment before moving his hands again, undoing his pants and pushing them down to his thighs. The fingers on his neck twitch.

“Do you have your mask on?” he asks. “I’m never quite sure how much you can smell through that. I always offer to take it off but you never let me. Let me just loosen my collar.” The body behind him goes still as he reaches up. “Not that kind of collar,” he says, unzipping the top few inches of his shirt. “I’m no omega.” He tugs the right side of his shirt away from his neck, fingers brushing the gun barrel as he does so, and tilts his head to the left. He taps a spot on his neck only an inch from the gun. “Go on, take a whiff.”

It takes a minute, but then the gun moves, and a masked nose presses to his neck. Clint can hear the inhale even with his bad ears, even through the mask, and a shudder runs through the body at his back. “I’m no omega, but I am yours,” Clint murmurs. The fingers on his neck tighten almost imperceptibly. “Every time we meet up, I let you bend me over a table, or spread me out on a roof, or press me up against the wall, and I let you fuck me and mark me up however you want. Get your scent all over my body.” The body shudders again, and the mask presses against his ear, breathing harsh and the gun nowhere to be felt. Hips nudge up against his own.

“Yeah, that’s right, baby. Even if you don’t remember, your body does. You can recognize your scent on me.” Clint lowers his hands again and pushes his boxers down to join his pants, leaving him exposed to the air. “Come on, baby. I’m yours for the taking. I’m already slicked up and ready, you can just push right in,” he murmurs enticingly. A bare right hand grasps at his hip, squeezing hard enough to leave bruises. Clint moans and reaches back. “Just let me undo your pants—”

Without a word or a warning, he gets shoved forward, up against the waist-high brick wall that runs around the edge of the roof. The metal hand stays tight on his neck, and Clint gasps. Two fingers prod between his cheeks, and then he hears buckles clinking and fabric ripping before a hot, large cock presses against his hole. Clint moans and pushes back, bracing his hands on the roof as his head hangs out over the alleyway. “Come on, baby, get inside me, I need you, please, alpha—”

His breath catches in his throat as the cock slides in, slow and easy, and then he lets it out in a long, low moan. The hand on his neck tightens, choking it off. He can’t breathe, and he can feel whatever blood isn’t rushing south pooling in his face. He has to reach up and scrabble at the fingers before they release enough to let him breathe.

“Okay, I got it. No noise,” he pants, rocking back on the cock to take it deeper. The fingers stroke his neck lightly in reward. “I like it rough, baby, I like it when you choke me. But if you want me to be quiet, you should probably put your fingers in my mouth.” Everything goes still, and Clint can almost feel the weight of the stare on his back, and then the metal fingers slowly slide up his neck and probe at his lips. Clint has his mouth open and waiting, and it’s not difficult to tip his head down and take them in, sucking on first two, and then three cold metal fingers. They taste like iron and slide smoothly over his tongue, the segments rubbing against his lips. Clint sucks on them eagerly and rocks his hips back, whimpering softly to beg for more of the big cock he hasn’t had for too long.

The hint gets picked up, and the cock slides out only to slam all the way back in. Clint chokes and moans around the fingers. It doesn’t take long before his ass is being brutally pounded, his hipbones scraping against the brick with each thrust. The bare right hand touches his body almost frantically, rubbing across his face, through his hair, and along his limbs as far as it can reach. It dips under his shirt and pinches and pulls at his nipples, making him whimper and do his best to spread his legs farther, even caught up in his pants as they are. The hand rubs across the scent glands of his throat before disappearing completely, and Clint can’t help the sob he chokes out, muffled by the metal fingers. He feels more than hears a vibration against his back, and then the mask is rubbing against his neck, throat, and jaw. Long brown hair tickles his cheeks, longer than he’s ever seen it, and some of it gets caught in the corner of his open mouth. His whole body aches for the mask to be replaced with a pointed nose dragging along his jaw, a hot wet mouth and sharp teeth on his skin, on his scent glands, biting down and marking him with his scent permanently. Instead all he gets is the rough, rounded flatness of denial. He sobs with desperation, tears slipping down his face to join the saliva dripping down his chin.

Another rumble vibrates against his back, soundless, and then the right hand is back, hovering in front of his nose. It’s covered in the Soldier’s scent, like he’s been rubbing his own scent glands with it. As soon as Clint recognizes the scent, the hand moves down, out of sight, and then wraps around his cock. Clint bites down on the metal fingers to muffle his squeal, bucking his hips urgently. His alpha is rubbing his scent directly into Clint’s cock, scent marking him as thoroughly as he can without a bond. Anyone else who tries to open Clint’s pants after this will get smacked with a wall of his alpha’s scent, now being rubbed into the tight skin of his balls.

Clint risks letting go of the wall with one hand to reach back and hold onto his alpha, fingers sliding over buckles and leather and holsters before he finds the skin of his hip and digs his nails in, dragging him impossibly closer. The force of the thrusts without his extra support sends his top half tilting slightly forward until his head is hanging lower than the edge of the wall, blood filling his face while fingers still fill his mouth. His alpha pulls him back up with a palm against his chin, and Clint’s eyes roll back at the show of strength. He tries to hold back, always tries to come at the same time as his alpha, but the way his alpha manhandles him and rubs his scent into Clint’s cockhead proves to be too much, and he spills right into his alpha’s palm, shuddering and sobbing.

He gets a sense of pride emanating from his alpha as he collects Clint’s sperm in his hand and then moves his hand away. His hips never stop their jackrabbiting thrusts, full of more stamina than Clint will ever be capable of. He’s heard about alpha stamina, but he’s sure that even his alpha beats out those stories.

His alpha’s hand returns, mostly clean somehow, having wiped off the fluid somewhere, and wraps tight around Clint’s cock, jerking it harsh and tight. Clint chokes himself on the fingers in his mouth to keep from howling in overstimulation. His alpha’s sweat drips onto his neck and shoulders, marking him further, and as the orgasm builds again, he can feel the knot popping in and out of him past the rim of his hole. Clint whines, desperate for it, angling his ass up as best he can, and with a sharp twist to his cock, his alpha shoves deep inside of him and comes. Clint’s vision whites out as he spills into his alpha’s hand again, cock jerking urgently with how full he feels, pinned on his alpha’s knot. If he could come a third time, he would just from the knot.

Unfortunately, unbonded alphas’ knots don’t last long. It takes only a few minutes before it’s sliding back out, and Clint feels like crying. He doesn’t want it to be over so soon.

His alpha tugs him back so he isn’t hanging out into open space anymore, his shoulders and cheek resting on the brick as he catches his breath. His knees want to collapse from under him, but his alpha is still supporting him. Clint can’t see him, but he can feel when his alpha drops to his knees, and it’s a good thing he still has the fingers in his mouth to keep him from yelping when his ass gets spread to reveal his hole. He can feel his alpha’s sperm dripping down to his balls. He somehow knows that if the mask weren’t there, he’d have a hot tongue shoved inside his hole, lapping at the pink, abused flesh and pushing the semen back inside. Instead he only gets the bluntness of the mask rubbing against his cheeks, thighs, and nudging at his balls. Clint wants to reach back and hold himself open for his alpha’s inspection, but his arms feel like jelly after holding on for so long. Warm fingers scoop up the spilled semen and push it back into his hole anyway, and he moans.

His boxers and pants get tugged roughly back into place, ensuring any spills will happen inside his clothes to keep the scent within them, sticking to Clint’s skin. His alpha pats his ass and it makes Clint shiver. Whether he’s done it in appreciation or ownership, Clint doesn’t know or care. Both are welcome in his book.

The fingers finally, slowly withdraw from his mouth, trailing strings of saliva, and Clint whines at the loss. His alpha leans over, rubbing his scent glands across Clint’s bared shoulder, and then suddenly he’s gone. When Clint finally turns himself around, sliding down the wall, there’s no sign that there was ever anyone up there with him to begin with.

It’s a long trek home, bruised and scraped up and screwed silly. When he gets there, he takes off his boxers, soaked in alpha semen, and holds them to his face. He fucks himself with the dildo that will never measure up to his alpha’s cock and comes until his sheets are destroyed and he can’t come anymore. He passes out with his face still pressed to his dirty boxers. Later he’ll get up and seal his clothes in a bag to preserve the scent for when he’s particularly lonely or horny, but for now he just wants to sleep wrapped in his alpha’s scent, sure he’ll never get to fall asleep wrapped in his alpha’s arms.

~~

He goes without a shower for as long as he can, uncaring when people at SHIELD make faces at him when he gets within scent range. He wears the reek of sex and alpha proudly, basking in it before it fades away. On the third day no one will come within ten feet of him, Coulson’s face starts looking particularly pinched, and Natasha glares and threatens to drag him to the locker room showers and scrub him down herself. He doesn’t go to work for a week after that, holing up in his apartment so no one can be bothered by the scent. He finally showers at the end of the week, and he cries sitting in the bathtub as the last trace of his alpha’s scent fades away.

It’s a very miserable Clint Barton who shows up to SHIELD the next day. Those who had avoided him because of the scent now avoid him because they don’t know what to do with his sad face. He slumps around the base, barely paying attention in the few meetings he has, and ends up crying on Coulson’s couch when the man ducks out to grab them lunch. He only knows Coulson comes back when there are arms wrapping around him, pulling him into a strong chest covered by a suit and tie. His nose is filled with the scent of alpha, but it’s wrong, not _his_ alpha, and that just renews the tears. He sobs into Coulson’s shoulder, Coulson’s hand sliding up and down his back, attempting to be soothing. Eventually he calms and pulls away, sniffling and wiping at his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and he sounds terrible, all stuffed up and throat scratchy. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Have you considered that you might be experiencing sub drop?” Coulson asks carefully, retrieving a box of tissues from his desk and handing them over.

Clint pauses in rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. “What?”

“Sub drop,” Coulson says. “It’s the crash that comes after the endorphin high associated with a particularly intense scene between a Dom and a sub. Often characterized by depression, anxiety, feelings of guilt or fear, inability to focus, and interruptions to normal sleeping and eating habits.”

Clint sniffs and takes a tissue. “Sure sounds like me,” he mumbles. “But I’m not…we didn’t…”

Coulson looks at him calmly. “Was there any pain involved? Pinching or choking, for example? Did you give up control to your partner? Was there any sensory deprivation, or overstimulation?”

Clint stares down at his hands and nods. “Yeah. Pretty much all of that.”

“Sounds like a scene to me, even if you didn’t talk about it being one,” Coulson says gently.

Clint wipes at his face as fresh tears roll down his cheeks.

“Do you have a way to contact your partner?” Coulson asks.

“No. I don’t, I’ve never even seen his face, he, he always wears a mask, he won’t even take it off to scent me.” His hand comes up to rub at his throat, at the scent glands there. All traces of his alpha’s scent are long gone, and it makes him whine as he chokes up again. “I just want him to bite me.”

“Bite you? Clint, why would he bite you?” Coulson asks quickly.

“To bond me, duh.” Clint rolls his eyes and takes another tissue.

“But Clint, you’re a beta. Bond bites don’t work the same for you.”

Clint turns a watery-eyed glare at Coulson. “I don’t care. I don’t care if we can never read each other’s minds or, or tell how far apart we are, or whatever mystical bullshit happens in alpha and omega bond pairs. I just want to smell like him and be his. I just want him to be my alpha for real.” He sobs into the tissue, flinching when Coulson’s hand settles between his shoulder blades.

“I’m sorry, Clint,” he murmurs. “I’m sorry you’re going through this right now.”

Clint allows himself to be tugged back to Coulson’s chest until the crying stops again. “Sorry for ruining your jacket,” he mumbles.

“It can be washed,” Coulson says, handing him the tissue box.

Clint dries his face, and then Coulson hands him a bottle of orange juice and a takeout bag. Clint just stares at them, not hungry.

“It’s important to drink fluids when dehydrated,” Coulson says, as if quoting some handbook. “And I know it’s not pizza, but there’s some good burgers in there.”

“Thanks, Coulson.” Clint mutters. He cracks open the bottle and sips the juice, then munches listlessly on a fry he pulls from the bag. Coulson breaks out his own burger and digs in, and the smell makes Clint’s stomach growl. Before he knows it, he’s digging the last fry out of the empty bag, and then Coulson is taking the bag and two empty juice bottles to throw them away.

“Do you want me to call you a cab to take you home?” Coulson asks.

Clint looks up in surprise. “But…I have a meeting with Fury this afternoon.”

“Let me handle Fury. You need to go home, Clint, not be at work.”

Clint looks down at his hands. “Thanks, Coulson, but um…I think I’d rather walk a little ways.”

“Alright. Call me if you change your mind.” Coulson helps him stand and then pulls him into a hug. It’s not a hug from the alpha that Clint wants, but it’s still a hug. He cuddles into it for a moment before he pulls himself away. Coulson pats his back and smiles, waving as he leaves the office. Clint doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes on the way out of the building, sure they can smell the tears on him. Once on the sidewalk, he shoves his hands in his pockets and walks with his head down, which is why it comes as a surprise when a metal hand clamps down on his mouth and drags him into an alley only a block from SHIELD.

Clint panics for half a second before he recognizes the metal fingers pressed to his mouth and he goes loose, letting his alpha steer him behind a dumpster and against the wall. His alpha has never sought him out like this before, so soon after their initial meeting, and so close to SHIELD. The mask is on his face, and the icy blue eyes above it are glaring at him. Clint tips his head back against the wall and slightly to the side, baring his neck.

“Alpha,” he says beseechingly. His alpha growls, a low buzz of sound, barely audible, and wraps both hands around his neck, the right rubbing firmly at his scent glands. Clint shivers and goes limp, pinned between his alpha and the wall when the Soldier steps forward and wedges a leg between his thighs. His alpha rubs his scented hand over his own long brown hair and face, even the mask, then rubs a hand on his own scent glands and proceeds to rub it all over Clint, shoving beneath his clothes to get it on his skin.

Clint is panting even before his alpha shoves his hand down the back of his pants to grab his ass possessively. “Please, alpha, please.” He reaches down and shoves his pants and underwear down in one go, and then tries not to trip on them when his alpha turns him around and pushes him up against the wall again. His alpha’s cock presses between his cheeks and Clint freezes. “Wait, wait, I’m not ready,” he says quickly. His alpha grumbles in his ear but angles his hips back. Clint doesn’t know if his alpha knows how to prep him; he’s always prepared himself in advance, using plenty of lube and a dildo or plug to work himself open, so that they don’t have to waste time when he’s with his alpha.

Clint quickly wets his fingers in his mouth and then reaches back to finger himself open. It’s rough, and too dry, but he doesn’t really care, just wants his alpha’s cock in him soon. His alpha shifts, and when Clint glances back, he can see that his alpha’s face is tilted down, intense eyes watching as Clint fingers himself. That’s…incredibly arousing. “Alpha,” Clint whines. Those ice blue eyes snap up to his face, to his red mouth hanging open as he pants. His alpha’s right hand moves up to his face, tapping on his lower lip in warning before slipping inside his mouth. Clint moans and eagerly sucks on the fingers, wrapping his tongue around them. His alpha tastes like gun oil and leather and _them_. It’s a heady mixture, and Clint whines when the fingers are removed from his mouth. His head is gently turned, and the metal fingers slide into his mouth instead. Clint sets his teeth in the grooves so they can’t be pulled away easily while he sucks on them. The right hand reappears at his hole, wet fingers pushing in alongside his own. It stretches his rim out to the size of his alpha’s cock, and when the fingertips rub curiously at his prostate, it feels like his whole body lights up with the pleasure. He doesn’t even realize he’s coming until it’s over, his teeth clamped tightly on the metal fingers as he sobs.

His alpha presses tight against his back, growling softly, his wet cock sliding over Clint’s cheeks and thighs. He pulls his fingers out, taking Clint’s with them, leaving him empty and aching. Clint whimpers, tilting his hips back to stick his ass out, desperate to be filled. The tip of his alpha’s cock settles against his hole and Clint pushes back on it, eagerly taking it in even though it feels like it’s splitting him open from the minimal prep. His alpha pushes the rest of the way in and Clint melts, his hands slipping against the wall. His alpha shoves up against him, keeping him pinned against the wall, their whole bodies touching. Only his alpha’s right hand keeps his sensitive cock off the rough wall. He palms it, pinches the head, rubs his thumb over the slit and manages to squeeze a few drops from him. Clint submits, sucking on his fingers, leaving his body free for his alpha to use as his eyes flutter shut.

The roughness of the mask rubs against the side of his face and neck, leaving tiny bits of his scent on Clint’s skin even if it’s not the direct skin contact that he longs for. They’re pressed so tightly together that when his alpha starts thrusting, he barely pulls out more than an inch, just enough to have something to push back into him. Clint’s so full and it’s amazing. He doesn’t know how long it goes on for, but it feels like not long at all before his alpha’s knot is catching on his rim. His alpha keeps thrusting as it swells, tugging on his rim each time as if to remind him that it’s there. As if he could forget. He finally stops thrusting only when it’s swelled so big he can’t move it anymore, locking them together, but his hips still rock the tiniest bit against Clint’s ass. It’s so possessive, he loves it, and between that and the way his alpha is playing with his cock—not even stroking it, just occasional rubbing his palm across the shaft while he pinches and massages the head between his fingers—it doesn’t take long before Clint is spilling his second orgasm into his alpha’s hand. Even then he doesn’t let go, continuing to rub and play with it until Clint is shaking.

The fingers are removed from his mouth at the same time he feels his alpha’s cock start to slip out, and a jolt of panic runs through him. He finds the strength to reach back and grab his alpha’s hip tightly. “Please don’t go, alpha. Please, please don’t leave me,” he begs. His alpha grumbles and presses his cock back into him, wrapping his left arm around Clint’s ribs and holding onto him tightly. The mask rubs along his jaw and under his ear. Clint sniffles and eases his grip just slightly so his fingernails aren’t digging into his alpha’s skin. “Thank you, alpha, thank you, thank you…”

Clint isn’t aware of passing out. He wakes up in bed in his own apartment. The apartment is silent, empty aside from himself, and a wave of loneliness crashes over him. He rolls over to sob into his pillow only to pause when he smells it. It smells like his alpha. _Strongly_ like his alpha. Clint sits up and looks around. Now that he’s paying attention, he can tell that his alpha’s scent is infused in the room, and it’s not just wisps of it coming off of Clint’s body and clothes. It lingers, like he’s spent time in the room. At least a few hours.

He slides out of bed and wanders the room, following the scent. It’s concentrated more heavily in a few places, specifically around the bed and his closet. Why would his scent be in Clint’s closet? Everything in there is clean. He ventures out into the living room and finds more pockets of scent; on the couch, in the little kitchen, the bathroom. His coffeepot in particular gives off waves of his alpha’s scent. It’s like he walked around the apartment touching everything he could get his hands on, rubbing his scent into all the fabrics that can hold it and even some of the ones that can’t. He must’ve smelled how strongly Clint’s scent is on the coffeepot and layered his own on top of it.

It’s incredibly possessive, and incredibly reassuring. It’s a sign that Clint isn’t the only one invested in the strange relationship they have. As much as Clint wants to belong to his alpha, his alpha wants Clint to belong to him as well.

Clint plops down on the couch and drags a cushion up to his face, inhaling his alpha’s scent and hiding a smile in it. Maybe there’s some hope for them after all.

~~

Clint doesn’t see his alpha for three months after that, which isn’t unusual. He gets a hint from one of his contacts that the Winter Soldier has been spotted in Vienna, but before he can do anything about it, he gets sent on a week-long mission to South Carolina. When he gets back, all of SHIELD is buzzing, and Clint has to stop a rookie in the hallway to find out what’s happened.

“The Winter Soldier has been captured!” the rookie says enthusiastically, stars in his eyes. “Agent Coulson brought him in personally!”

That’s all Clint needs to hear for his blood to freeze in his veins. He walks away from the rookie and casually books it down to holding, where he finds Coulson standing in the viewing area talking to the person assigned to cell observation. Most of the cells are empty, he knows; all but one stand with their doors open.

“Is it true, Coulson?” he asks. “You brought in the Winter Soldier?”

Coulson looks at him and gestures to the monitors. “See for yourself.”

Clint does, stepping closer and studying the camera feeds carefully. Since he is the only prisoner, only six of the screen are lit up: two in the hallway, and one in each corner of the room. The Soldier sits on a cot that’s bolted to the wall, hands cuffed together and hanging between his knees. His head is tilted forward so his hair hides his face, but Clint can still see the mask on him. He’s been stripped of his usual gear and is only wearing gray SHIELD-issue sweatpants and a hospital gown, his feet bare. The right side of the gown is covered in dried blood. “Impressive, boss,” Clint says before pointing to the blood. “Is he injured?”

“I shot him twice,” Coulson says. “Medical removed the bullets but weren’t able to stitch up the wounds before he woke from the anesthesia. As for the mask, before you ask, they couldn’t figure out how to get it off in the time available, the wounds being a higher priority. As soon as he woke up, he started fighting until security dragged him down here and locked him up. That was yesterday. His wounds have been healing, but the one on his side reopens every time he moves.”

Clint whistles low. “Is there any chance I could get a turn at guard duty?”

“You want to watch him?” Coulson asks, incredulous.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s the _Winter Soldier_. This guy’s legendary.” Clint turns to see Coulson eyeing him suspiciously, and he thinks he must’ve tried too hard to cover the anger burning through him with lightheartedness. Coulson nods anyway.

“Agent Thomson’s shift ends in three hours. You can take over then _if—_ ” Coulson holds up a finger, “— _if_ your reports are done by then.”

“Thank you, sir,” Clint says. He glances at the screen again and then leaves holding.

He gets his reports done and filed with Coulson’s secretary within the hour, runs a few errands, and then hurries back to his own quarters. He lives in the city, but it’s convenient to have a place to crash on base if he gets back from a mission late and doesn’t feel like trying to get a taxi to Brooklyn. He keeps several changes of clothes in it, as well as a small hoard of snacks and a pretty extensive first aid kit, so he can patch himself up without going to medical. He grabs a duffel from under the bed and stuffs the first aid kit, two sets of clothes, and all the snacks into it before grabbing another set of clothes and going to take a very thorough shower with his trusty dildo and bottle of lube.

Clint returns to holding just before the three hour mark, and Coulson is nowhere to be seen. Thomson eyes his duffel bag. “What? I needed snacks.” Clint opens it and pulls out a bag of chips. “Want any?” Thomson shakes his head and gets to his feet.

“I think I’m gonna go for some actual food, thanks. Good luck,” Thomson says as Clint drops into his vacated chair. Clint waves after him, waits until he can’t see Thomson in the hallway anymore, and then sets the bag aside and leans forward, getting to work. First he makes a loop of footage for all six cameras focused on the cell, trusting the Soldier not to move from the same position he was in three hours ago. Once he gets that running, he sits back and creates a loop for the camera overlooking the observation area. Then he darkens the glass of the cell until no one in the hallway can look in. Finally, he locks down the holding area and the cell itself so no one but him can get in or out.

Preparations made, Clint grabs his duffel and enters the hall, heading straight for the cell and testing the door on his way. The lock holds, so Clint hurries to the cell door, which opens to his hand print. The Soldier’s head jerks up as Clint enters and he immediately starts growling, body going tense. The door slides shut behind Clint and beeps reassuringly as it locks. Clint carefully sets the duffel off to the side and raises his hands to show he’s unarmed as he slowly steps forward.

“Hey baby, it’s me,” he says softly. “Do you recognize me?” The Soldier only glares, continuing to growl. “That’s okay. It must be scary in here, huh? I wonder how they got you. You’re normally so careful, even I can’t sneak up on you.” His steps falter as something occurs to him. “Were you…were you waiting for me?” he whispers. The Soldier’s growl amps up, the chain connecting his wrists clanging as he jerks on it. “Oh gosh, baby, I’m so sorry. They sent me on a mission somewhere else or I would’ve been there, I swear. I’m so sorry.”

The Soldier lunges at him, using his body weight to slam him to the ground, using the chain between his wrists to keep him pinned, stretching it tight over Clint’s throat. He chokes and gasps. “If you want to shut me up, you gotta use your fingers, remember?” Clint says, trying for a joking tone. The chain digs harder into his throat, and Clint grasps for the Soldier’s wrists. “Alpha,” he begs. “Alpha, please, I’ll be good, I’ll be your good boy, please.” The Soldier jerks back like Clint’s burned him, scrambling back until his back hits the wall. Clint coughs and sits up, rubbing his throat. The Soldier watches him intently, slowly bring his hands up to his face to sniff at the scent of Clint on them.

“I can get those off if you want,” Clint says, gesturing at the cuffs. The Soldier eyes him warily before thrusting his wrists out. Clint scoots closer and pulls out the key, undoing one lock and then the other. The Soldier rips them off immediately and throws them into the corner of the room near the toilet, as far from him as he can get it. Clint makes a small sound at the red skin of his right wrist and the Soldier’s eyes snap to him. Clint can’t help but reach for him, wanting to soothe the irritated skin, but as soon as he does, the Soldier is on him again, pinning his wrists to the floor next to his head. Clint arches up in surprise, rubbing their groins together for a second before he settles, but it’s enough for his alpha to grumble through the mask, peering into his face. Clint tilts his head, baring his throat, and the Soldier eyes him suspiciously before leaning in to sniff him, the mask brushing his skin. It’s so utterly familiar that Clint goes limp with a content sigh. His alpha grunts and the mask rubs more firmly against his neck before his alpha snarls and jerks back to start clawing at the back of his head where the straps of the mask loop around.

“Hey, hey, wait. Don’t do that, you’ll only hurt yourself.” The Soldier grabs Clint’s wrist again as he reaches for him. “I can get that off too if you’ll let me,” Clint offers. The Soldier stares and lets his wrist go, sitting up. Clint sits up too and turns to go for his bag, his leg rubbing up against the Soldier’s groin in the process. The Soldier growls and grabs his knee, keeping him from moving away, his leg pressed against the Soldier’s hard cock through his pants. Clint looks back and licks his lips. “Or the mask can wait,” he murmurs. The Soldier ruts against his leg and Clint quickly reaches for his pants, wanting to get them off so he can feel that on his skin, but the Soldier knocks his hands away. He yanks on Clint’s pants so hard, the button flies off and the zipper rips, and in a second they’re tangled around his ankles, stopped by his boots. The boots get yanked off too, leaving only his boxers to cover his lower half, barely clinging to the curve of his ass, and soon those are ripped off as well. It makes Clint really glad he brought another set of clothes to walk out of here in.

Clint spreads his legs and lifts his knees, letting his alpha look at all of him. His alpha does, letting out a low growl that’s almost a purr, then grabs his hips and roughly turns him over onto his knees. More fabric rips behind him, and then the hot tip of his alpha’s cock presses against his hole, pauses, and withdraws. Clint nearly sobs in frustration.

“Alpha, please,” he whines. A finger probes gently at his hole, and Clint gasps as he realizes _he remembers last time_. “I’m ready, alpha, I’m all wet for you, please.” His alpha growls and replaces his finger with his cock, shoving all the way in in one go. Clint howls into the floor. “ _YES!_ ” Taking that as encouragement, his alpha starts pounding his ass, keeping a bruising grip on Clint’s hips. His knot pops surprisingly quickly, before Clint’s had even one orgasm, as if he was already riled up, as if he was waiting for this. As soon as he can’t move anymore, the mask scrapes against Clint’s neck, then his alpha growls and starts clawing at it again.

“Leave that alone until I can get my tools to get it off you,” Clint urges. His alpha looks at him and then _stands up_ , taking Clint with him, and just the thought that he is _hanging off his alpha’s dick_ with his feet off the floor makes him come, leaning back on his alpha’s chest as he sobs through it. When he comes back from the edge, he finds his alpha is rubbing his flat palm up and down Clint’s cock. He shudders and his cock twitches, and his alpha wraps his hand around it, giving it a firm squeeze that makes him gasp. It makes him want to come again already.

His alpha sniffs at his neck, mask pushing into his skin insistently. Satisfied with whatever he smells, he wraps his left arm firmly around Clint’s waist and walks over to the duffel, his knot still swollen inside Clint’s ass. He kneels them both down in front of it and Clint digs for his toolkit. He stops when he has it in his hands and frowns.

“I can’t get the mask off until your knot goes down,” he says apologetically. “I can’t reach it like this.” His alpha grumbles and hooks his chin over Clint’s shoulder. He pokes curiously the contents of the bag. “I have food in there if you’re hungry. And a kit to take care of your injuries if you’ll let me.” His alpha snuffles at the side of his face as his knot starts shrinking. A moment later it slips out, and Clint turns, his hole clenching on emptiness. His alpha is still wearing the sweatpants, the waistband tucked under his balls to keep it out of the way, and the hospital gown is ripped up the middle. A trail of dark hair leads from his alpha’s cock up his belly and Clint wants to put his mouth on it. He swallows against the temptation and opens the toolkit.

“Now just…don’t move. I don’t want to hurt you,” he pleads. His alpha eyes the small knife in his hand and turns his head so Clint can get at the straps. The back of the mask has a locking mechanism that likely requires either a finger scan or DNA to open it, so it’s much easier to go for the straps by his ear, which are rubber, tough but not reinforced. It takes a minute to cut through them, being careful not to nick his alpha. In the meantime his alpha starts pawing his ass, and then probes a finger into his hole, making him bite his lip as he tries to focus. Just as his alpha starts to slide a second finger in, the rubber snaps and the mask sags. Instantly his alpha rips it off his face and flings it after the cuffs, panting and working his jaw. He spits out a mouthful of blood then wipes his lips on the gown and looks at Clint.

 _Oh gosh_ , Clint thinks, _he’s really hot_. His cheeks look a little sunken, but he has a scruffy jaw that Clint wants to rub against his thighs, and a cleft chin. Combined with his pale blue eyes, his alpha is a striking figure. With a jolt of surprise, Clint realizes that he recognizes that face. He’s seen it in Coulson’s collection of Cap war memorabilia.

The man in front of him, the Winter Soldier, _his alpha,_ is Bucky Barnes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience waiting on this second chapter! Life has gotten better but has still been pretty crazy. And thanks for all the lovely comments! (I'm terrible about responding to comments individually.)

“Holy crap,” Clint whispers. His alpha—Bucky—doesn’t seem to notice, still working his jaw. Blood paints his lips red, and Clint wonders just what was on the other side of that mask that would make him bleed like this. Bucky huffs out a breath, rubs his jaw and mouth, and then looks at Clint.

“Hey gorgeous,” he says, his voice low and rough with disuse. Clint’s eyes go wide, and he feels like he might be blushing. The next sentence chills him though. “So you weren’t part of an ambush to help SHIELD capture me?”

“What?! No! If I’d known about it I would’ve warned you!” Clint says. “I don’t like what the people who use you do to you, how you keep forgetting me if we’re apart longer than a month, but I wouldn’t help you be imprisoned! I want you to be free!”

“Good.” Bucky leans in and kisses him almost before the word is out, licking into his mouth. Bucky kisses like a man starving, like he’s trying to suck Clint’s soul out through his mouth, and all Clint can taste is blood but it’s the best kiss he’s ever had. Bucky’s hands come up to frame his face, cupping his jaw and angling him so that Bucky’s tongue can get deeper in his mouth. It leaves Clint panting and achingly hard when he pulls back. “I’ve waited a long time for that,” Bucky says.

“You have?”

“I’ve been waiting a long time to use my mouth for a lot of things. That’s just the first.” He looks down intently. “Also, this.” He leans down, dragging Clint’s hips up off the ground and swallowing his dick in one go. Clint shouts and falls back on the duffel, not caring that he can hear things crunching under him as his eyes roll back in his head. Bucky sucks on his cock hard, pulling Clint’s second orgasm out of him even though he could’ve sworn he was nowhere close. Bucky keeps sucking until he whines, and then he sets Clint’s hips down in his lap, close enough for his own cock to rub against Clint’s balls. It’s a little weird to think that Bucky Barnes has been his alpha the whole time, but those intense eyes still look at him the same way behind all that messy brown hair.

Clint reaches for his face with one hand. Bucky catches his wrist and intercepts his hand, sucking two fingers into his mouth. “ _Bucky_ ,” Clint chokes out. Bucky practically spits his fingers out, turning to glare at him.

“Who the hell is Bucky?” he demands.

Clint stares at him. “What?”

“Who. The hell. Is Bucky?” Bucky growls.

“Y— _you_ are, Bucky is your name.” Clint feels like his heart is breaking.

“My name?” Bucky says. “But you’ve always called me alpha or, or—”

“Baby,” Clint sits up and cups Bucky’s face in his hands. “I didn’t know your name until I saw your face. I recognize it from pictures of before—before this.” He looks at the metal arm. Bucky follows his gaze. “But you are still, _always_ my alpha.”

“Even without a bond?” Bucky asks.

“Even without a bond,” Clint says, though he wants to choke on the words with the strength of his desire for a binding bite. He doesn’t think he can ask for that now, not knowing who his alpha is. Bucky frowns, obviously thinking, and his face is so expressive he thinks it’s no wonder his face was kept hidden.

“There was…another blond man. Smaller,” he says after a moment.

“That’s Steve,” Clint says.

“Steve,” Bucky repeats.

“He’s your friend, but he’s a lot bigger now than he was. He’s kind of my friend too,” Clint says. Bucky growls and pulls him close.

“You are mine,” he grumbles.

“Yes, yours, alpha,” Clint says, and then, knowing he probably doesn’t remember this either, “My name is Clint.”

“Clint,” Bucky rumbles. “My gorgeous beta.” His right hand strokes Clint’s cheek. Clint’s eyes flutter closed and he leans into the hand. Bucky growls and leans in to sniff his neck, and then latches his mouth onto it and sucks a hickey into the skin. Clint shivers and presses closer, Bucky’s hard cock sliding next to his own soft one.

“Alpha, will you knot me again?” he asks. Bucky’s mouth comes off his neck with a pop, and he stares intently into Clint’s eyes.

“Yes, gorgeous,” Bucky says, looking down and starting to lift Clint’s hips.

“Wait, wait.” Clint puts a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and he goes still, looking up at him again. Clint doesn’t know if he’ll ever get this again once SHIELD and Steve find out who the Winter Soldier is, and he wants this possibly-last time to be…memorable. Special. “Can we do it on the bed?” Clint asks. “And can you take these off? I want to see you.” Clint tugs at the hospital gown and sweatpants. Before Clint can even move, Bucky finishes ripping the gown up the middle and throws away the pieces. He can’t do the same with the pants since Clint is sitting on his lap, but Clint’s shirt soon follows the way of the gown. Bucky stands, setting Clint on his feet, and Clint gets a good look at his wounds for the first time.

There’s a circle on his right shoulder that’s already closed up and half healed, and a long graze on his ribs that’s ripped open and slowly leaking blood. Clint puts his hand underneath it and looks up.

“Will you let me take care of this?” he asks. Bucky looks at him thoughtfully.

“After,” he decides.

“Okay,” Clint agrees. Just in case neither one of them feels like moving afterward, Clint pushes the duffel under the cot where they can easily reach it, Bucky standing hot and impatient behind his back. Clint straightens and turns, standing barely an inch apart, and looks up into Bucky’s—his alpha’s—eyes as he hooks his thumbs in the sweatpants and pushes them down. Bucky steps out of them once they’re low enough. He sets his hands on Clint’s hips and guides him down onto his back on the cot. Clint lifts his knees so Bucky can fit between his legs, both of them naked together for the first time, doing it face to face for the first time, in a SHIELD basement holding cell. Clint regrets looping the cell camera footage for a minute: if he hadn’t, he might be able to keep a copy of this in case it never happens again.

Bucky stretches out across Clint and leans in to kiss him, bodies slotting together like they were made for it, an unlikely match between an alpha and a beta. Somewhere in the kiss, Bucky’s cock slips inside of Clint’s wet hole again. If Clint had thought this might be slow and gentle, he’d be wrong. It’s still rough and intense, Bucky grabbing at him hard enough to leave bruises and sucking eager marks into whatever skin he can get his mouth on, desperate to use it. Clint wraps his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and just holds on, and he’s nearing the edge of his impossible third orgasm by the time Bucky’s knot starts to swell. Somehow they manage to come together, the aftershocks rolling through them from one to the other. Bucky kisses him hot and hard as they ride it out, then gentles the kiss and pulls away. He smiles and strokes Clint’s face and down his neck, then rolls them onto their sides, Clint’s right leg hitched up over Bucky’s hip, Bucky’s left arm curled behind Clint’s back to keep him from getting too close to the edge of the cot. Clint folds his arm under his head and Bucky imitates him, his metal hand stroking up and down Clint’s spine.

Neither of them say anything or move for several long minutes, aside from the soothing motions of Bucky’s hand, just smiling and studying each other’s faces. Bucky leans in for a kiss, licking at Clint’s lips and practically purring. Clint braces himself for Bucky’s knot to start shrinking, but before it does, he hears a single footstep in the hallway, and with barely a warning, the door behind Clint slides open, and he hunches his shoulders reflexively. Coulson’s “What—” is cut off by Bucky snarling viciously, pushing himself up over Clint as if to hide him beneath his own body. Clint can’t do much with Bucky’s knot still locked in him, and then right on cue it starts to shrink. He bites back a whine as it slips out.

“Agent Barton,” Coulson calls sharply, raising his voice to be heard over Bucky’s snarling, which just grows louder when he speaks. Clint’s shoulders hunch further, then he slowly turns at the waist, keeping his hips angled away from the door.

“Hey boss,” he says quietly. Bucky’s arm tightens across his back. And then, of course, Steve steps into view behind Coulson, his eyes darting over them as he quickly analyzes the situation, before he focuses on Bucky’s face and his eyes go wide.

“Bucky?” he asks incredulously. Coulson’s head whips towards Steve and then back to Bucky, studying his face before his eyes too widen.

“Bucky _Barnes_?” Coulson asks. Clint runs a hand down Bucky’s side, trying to soothe him, since he apparently really doesn’t like Coulson. He sits up and turns, swinging his legs off the cot with his hands covering his lap, and Bucky immediately wraps himself possessively around Clint.

“Yeah,” Clint says. “The Winter Soldier is Bucky Barnes. And also the alpha I told you about, Coulson.” Bucky’s snarling subsides to about half the volume, glaring at Coulson over Clint’s shoulder and nuzzling his cheek.

Coulson rubs a hand over his face and mutters what’s probably the tenth swear Clint’s ever heard from him. “Alright. I’ll…I’m going to go get a drink and then I’m going to deal with this. Barton, get dressed and report to Fury’s office.”

“No,” Bucky barks.

“No?” Coulson echoes.

“He isn’t going with you, he’s _mine_. Go find your own beta,” Bucky snarls. Clint’s face flushes at the looks on Steve and Coulson’s faces, and he stares down at the arms locked tightly around him. Coulson chooses to walk away without saying anything. When Clint glances up, Steve is still standing in the doorway.

“Steve, please,” Clint says quietly. Steve jolts and quickly turns and walks away. The door stays open, and Clint knows Steve can still hear them from the hallway even as he reaches for the clothes in the duffel under the cot. Bucky’s arms tighten around him.

“You are going?” he asks. “You are going with that other alpha?” He sounds both hurt and offended.

Clint sits back up and turns to him. “Bucky, alpha. He is my boss. You are my alpha. I’ll come back, but if I don’t do what he says, I’ll get in trouble. I wasn’t supposed to be in here with you at all.”

“No,” Bucky protests. “No punishments. I will take the punishment, it is my fault, he can’t hurt you, I will kill him.”

“He isn’t going to hurt me.” Clint cups Bucky’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. “Baby, please, you have to stay here and let me go. If we’re good they’ll let me come see you again, but if we’re not they’ll take you away somewhere.” Bucky stares at him intently.

“You’ll come back. Promise?” he asks.

“I promise, baby,” Clint says. He carefully slips away from Bucky and pulls on his clothes, pulling out the second set and leaving them on the cot for Bucky, who ignores them in favor of watching Clint. Bucky’s wound is still bleeding, so Clint digs out the first aid kit and patches it up while Bucky watches. Once he’s done, he empties out the food in the duffel, stashing it under the cot, then puts the first aid kit, his tools, and his tattered clothes, along with Bucky’s come-stained sweatpants back in the duffel and turns to go. Bucky follows him to the door, whining softly.

“Clint, gorgeous…no…” Bucky says softly. Clint hears Steve choke in the hallway and he turns back.

“One more kiss for the road, my alpha?” Clint asks. Bucky is on him instantly, holding his head between his hands and devouring his mouth. When they have to break apart to breathe, Bucky trails down his jaw and neck, sucking and biting marks into his skin. Eventually Clint steps back, leaving Bucky’s hands empty. Bucky stares at him longingly, hands still reaching out, and Clint reaches over for the keypad to close and lock the door. “Goodbye, my alpha,” he whispers, hitting the button as Bucky lunges forward. Bucky slams his fists against the glass door and Clint urns and walks way. Steve is still standing in the hallway, his back against the wall, and Clint makes the mistake of meeting his eyes as he passes. The tears Clint has been holding back spill over, and he breaks into a run.

~~

Three days pass before Clint sees Bucky again. Those days are filled with interrogations, disciplinary hearings, and whispers, as somehow the whole base now knows he was Sleeping With The Enemy. Clint keeps his face blank, stony whenever he meets someone’s eyes. Let them judge him all they want. He knows that Bucky was just another pawn in a larger game, and when Steve catches him on the second day and tells him about the brainwashing, just another puppet on a string, like he was. It’s a strange, bitter sort of irony.

On that third day, Clint’s just leaving R&D in the basement, having failed to make them give his bow back, when he sees a dozen armed guards marching Bucky through the hallway, leaving holding and taking him to the elevator. Bucky’s wearing the clothes Clint left for him, his hair still shaggy and dirty, and a series of cuffs and chains are connecting his wrists to his waist to his ankles, making it so he has to take short steps and he can’t lift his arms higher than his stomach. Two of the guards have a hold on his arms. Bucky’s staring at the floor, his face troubled, but his nose twitches and then his head jerks up and he looks right at Clint. He stops walking, making his guards stumble not to run into him or fall on their faces. He shakes free and shoves past them, heading straight for Clint even though they shout at him. Clint meets him halfway, his arms going around Bucky’s waist as Bucky tucks his head into Clint’s neck.

“Hello gorgeous,” Bucky murmurs, mouthing at his neck.

“Hello, alpha,” Clint murmurs back, hiding the words in his hair. He ignores the guards, who are staring, and hugs Bucky tighter. “Where are you going?”

“They want to look at my brain. They said they might be able to fix the…the conditioning. But what if it makes me forget?” Bucky clutches at the front of Clint’s shirt with both hands. “I don’t want to forget you again. I finally got to kiss you, I don’t want to lose that.”

“If you forget,” Clint hesitates. It isn’t the same anymore; Bucky has Steve now to help him remember, how can Clint compete with that? “If you forget, I’ll help you remember,” he promises anyway. “But they’ll do their best not to do that. They want you to remember, you’ve probably got a lot of information they want.”

“They have a lot of questions,” Bucky agrees. “But I haven’t answered any of them. Especially not that other alpha’s,” he growls.

“What? Why?” Clint pulls away to look at him.

Bucky frowns. “I won’t talk to them until they let me have you back,” he says as if it’s obvious.

“Oh, alpha.” Clint gives in and nuzzles him, and Bucky takes the opportunity to vigorously rub his face against Clint’s, scent marking him and covering his cheeks with beard burn. It makes Clint shiver and his dick gives an interested twitch. “Listen. I want you to answer their questions, okay?”

Bucky stares at him. “Why?”

“Because it might be the only way to get you free,” Clint says. “If you talk to them, they might let me come back to you sooner.”

Bucky frowns and works his jaw while he thinks. One of the guards steps closer and Clint glares, holding up a finger to tell them to give him a minute.

“Fine,” Bucky agrees. “But I won’t talk to that other alpha. Tell them to send someone else. And not Steve.”

“Why don’t you like Coulson?” Clint asks. Bucky growls at the name.

“You smell too much like him.”

“Oh.” Clint pulls Bucky into a tight hug, uncaring that Bucky’s hands and cuffs are digging into his stomach, scenting him as much as possible. “You’re the only alpha for me, I promise.”

“Good,” Bucky grumbles, catching his mouth in a searing kiss. Bucky’s mouth still tastes like blood, as if he hasn’t fully healed and they haven’t let him clean it out, but as his tongue rubs against Clint’s, Clint finds he doesn’t really care. They’re both a little dazed, both a little hard when they pull back, and Clint wants nothing more than to let his alpha ravish him.

“Time to go,” one of the guards says. Bucky growls and kisses Clint again.

“I’ll see you soon, gorgeous. Promise,” Bucky says.

“Soon, alpha,” Clint agrees. Bucky lets the guard take his arm and guide him back down the hallway, keeping his eyes locked on Clint until he moves out of sight around the corner.

Of course, somehow, the footage of them in the hallway spreads like wildfire around SHIELD, and the rumors start fresh. Instead of “Hawkeye is sleeping with the enemy”, it’s now “Agent Barton has bonded with the Winter Soldier”. It makes Clint want to laugh and cry simultaneously because of how badly he wants it to be true.

The procedures to test Bucky’s brain take days, which Clint only knows because he suddenly has a Steve Rogers-shaped shadow. They won’t let Steve see him either until it’s done.

“How did it happen?” Steve asks him once, when they’re sitting alone in the cafeteria at midnight. “How did you two meet?”

Clint glances around and then takes Steve to his quarters, sitting down on the bed to explain.

“I was sent on a mission to somewhere in Europe. The exact location and details are classified, but it was where I first met him.” Clint pauses and stares down at his hands. “The Winter Soldier is legendary, you know. He’s the ghost story that senior agents tell to baby agents to scare them. He’s the monster under the bed, the nightmare in the closet, that sort of thing. Some of them get the idea that if they can bring him in, they’ll be a hero. When I met him, I just wanted to live.

“I was on the run from a dozen extremely well-trained goons. No matter where I tried to hide, they would find me. I was out of ammo and my comms were broken so I couldn’t call for backup or extraction. I climbed up onto a roof and ran right into the Soldier’s gun. He fired, I ducked, and the bullet nicked my ear. I tried to punch him, and we started fighting. He nearly killed me…but when the goons heard and came to back him up, he killed them when they tried to shoot me. He called me an idiot and disappeared. He saved my life.

“After that, I started studying his patterns. Where he was likely to go, what kind of targets he took, where he was mostly seen. I started seeking him out when we were sent on missions to the same place. At first he fought me every time, but then he got used to me showing up, I guess, and he just rolled his eyes and kept his gun trained on his target. I didn’t realize that his memory was being routinely erased until the next time he tried to fight me. He had no idea who I was. Every few times we met up, he would try to kill me, and I would have to remind him I wasn’t there to capture him or ruin his mission. After a couple years of that, I came up on the roof and found that he was in rut.”

Steve winced. “They sent him on a mission in rut?”

“I don’t know if it was intentional, but yeah. His hands and head were steady, but the rest of him was shaking with need. He was sprawled out on the roof in sniper pose, and it was covered in gravel, like, that couldn’t be comfortable, but he was grinding his hips against it like he just couldn’t stop himself. He didn’t even look at me when I came on the roof, he just growled. So I did something really stupid. I set down my gun, took off my jacket and folded it up, and lifted his hips just enough to get my head under there with my jacket underneath, and then I let him fuck my mouth.

“I’m really good at holding my breath, which is good because I couldn’t breathe at all once his knot was in my mouth and his cock in my throat. It nearly broke my jaw and I almost passed out before he pulled out and let me breathe again. Somewhere in there he took his shot but I didn’t notice when, and then he took me away to a hotel room and kept me pinned to the bed for three days.” He pauses, rubbing his hand over his mouth. “Some of the most enlightening three days of my life.

“After that, pretty much every time we met up, we had sex, whether he was in rut or not. He always had the mask on, so I didn’t know who he was underneath it, but even with that I somehow fell in love with him. And somehow, we never got caught…”

“Until now,” Steve says. Clint smiles wryly.

“Well, once he got captured, I figured they were either going to kill him or lock him up somewhere and throw away the key, and I’d never see him again.”

“You risked your career and your freedom to be with your alpha one last time,” Steve says slowly.

“Pretty much,” Clint agrees. “If I could never have the bond with him that I wanted, I at least wanted to make our last time a good one. And then I saw who he was, and I figured even if he did get free, I would never get that bond anyway. What right do I have to keep Bucky Barnes for myself?” he asks.

Steve looks at him seriously, setting his jaw in the way Clint has come to know means he’s made a decision. “More than you might think.”

~~

Once Steve gets himself involved, everything moves a lot faster. Paperwork gets filed miraculously fast, a team of psychics and specialists get called in to remove the trigger words from Bucky’s brain. Medical patches him up properly and gets him on an IV to replace the fluids he’s lost, once it turns out that he’d been fed only intravenously and couldn’t keep down anything solid. They get him on a meal plan, start with giving him clear fluids and slowly work their way up to pudding. He’s offered a shower and fresh clothes but he refuses, until Steve brings a set of freshly-scent clothes from Clint. Steve tells him later that Bucky couldn’t wait to wash off the dirt and grime and pull on Clint’s clothes, dragging the shirt up over his nose so he could breathe in the scent.

Everything happening to him so fast makes his body go haywire, and Bucky goes into full-blown rut overnight. They try to give him suppressants, but he just burns through them, and he’s still left sweating and shaking and with a permanent erection. Steve gives them a day to try to ease the rut, and then he sneaks Clint into holding and brings Bucky to meet him in one of the special cells they keep for letting prisoners work through their heat or rut. It’s stocked with food and water, and every single surface is covered in soft padding, with a pile of blankets and cushions in the corner. The walls in it are solid instead of glass. Bucky and Clint stay in it for an entire week, until Clint doesn’t remember what it’s like not to have Bucky’s cock in his ass at all times. The short duration of the knot distresses them both, and Bucky makes up for it by just keeping his cock in Clint’s ass whenever neither one is using the toilet hidden behind a screen in the corner, even when they’re sleeping, even when it’s soft. Bucky still doesn’t give him the bond bite, both of them knowing that during rut is not the right time to make that kind of decision. Clint still comes out with teeth-shaped bruises all over his skin…as soon as he can walk again, that is.

Steve is waiting for them when they finally exit the cell, along with Coulson, who Bucky barely has the energy to growl at. He makes an effort anyway, slumping all over Clint, who stumbles forward into Steve’s firm chest. Steve catches both of them without budging an inch, and Clint takes a second to wonder how that’s fair, and if Steve would be just as worn out and clumsy after rut as Bucky currently is.

“Steady there,” Steve says, one hand supporting Clint while the other reaches past him to Bucky. Clint decides to just stay there for a moment, even if Steve’s collarbone is digging into his forehead a little painfully. His pec makes a nice cushion for Clint’s chin, and Bucky’s still draped warm and heavy and smelling of the last traces of rut still clinging to his skin. Steve smells nice too, actually, when Clint takes a subtle sniff. Bucky’s hands slide past his waist, wrapping around Steve’s and locking Clint between the two of them. That’s nice, maybe he can just take a nap right here, warm and safe…

He wakes up in his own bunk, of course, with Bucky nowhere to be seen or smelled. It’s like ice water down his spine as Clint sits up. Steve is sitting up in a chair next to Clint’s bed, sleeping with his chin tucked to his chest and his arms crossed, but he must smell it when Clint’s mood goes sour and he snorts himself awake, blinking at Clint, who turns away before Steve can focus on his face. Steve’s too smart for that, though, and he shifts over to the bed and wraps Clint in his arms. Clint gives in and clings to him, curling up small in Steve’s lap as he shakes and shakes his way through the endorphin crash. Afterward, he slumps against Steve’s shoulder, exhausted, while Steve’s hand strokes slowly up and down his spine.

“Is Bucky okay?” Clint mumbles after a few minutes.

“Bucky’s fine,” Steve assures him. “The bed in his cell, not so much.”

“Is he gonna be in trouble?”

“No one is going to be in trouble.” Steve’s voice is firm, but his hand stays soft. “Agent Coulson knows very well the aftereffects of rut. The bed will be replaced once Bucky’s calm enough to let someone else in his space.”

“Have you done this before?” Clint asks, looking up at him.

Steve smiles at him. “A few times. Bucky’s always prefered betas, but back then, relationships between alpha and beta males were illegal. He wasn’t willing to risk getting anyone pregnant, though, and I couldn’t help him with his rut even though I offered. But we had neighbors, a bonded beta pair, and sometimes they had friends who would come ‘visit’ and then sneak over to our apartment. There were a few times Bucky had to go straight back to work when it was over, so I helped his partners through the aftermath. Turns out even the weak scent of an alpha who isn’t their partner can help a beta.”

“You do smell good,” Clint says, nuzzling closer until his nose brushes Steve’s neck. Steve’s hand pauses as he takes in a deep breath, and then it resumes.

“Thanks, Clint. You should get some rest now, let me take care of you. You’ll feel better later.”

“Okay.” Clint yawns and lets himself start to drift off. “Thanks, alpha…” He barely feels Steve’s hand pause again as he falls back to sleep.

~~

Clint gets an earful from Coulson afterwards, because of course he does, but he just stands silently and takes it until Coulson stops mid sentence, staring at him.

“Nothing I say is going to make a difference, is it?” he asks as if he already knows the answer.

“With all due respect, sir, no it isn’t,” Clint says, standing at parade rest. “I will continue to go and see him for as long as he wants me.”

There’s something sad in Coulson’s face as he looks at him. “You deserve more than that, Clint.”

Clint turns sharply on his heel and heads for the door even though he hasn’t been dismissed. “No I don’t,” he says.

Coulson doesn’t call him back.

~~

All in all, it still takes nearly two months before everything gets sorted. Bucky is officially labeled a Prisoner Of War, his identity gets brought back to life, and Steve makes sure the military gives him everything he’s entitled to. The trigger words get removed from his brain, and the process leaves him exhausted even though he doesn’t do anything but lie still for it. The memories will have to come back in their own time, but Bucky is assigned a SHIELD therapist to help with that, and to help overcome the trauma of nearly seventy years as a POW. Steve gets Pepper Potts to handle the press release to the public, because that woman can work miracles with a smile and a look. He smuggles Bucky over to the Tower and hides him away in his apartment, and Clint figures that’s that. Sure, he has a place in the Tower, but he doesn’t live there, and he can’t sneak in to see Bucky like he can at SHIELD.

Of course, he doesn’t account for the press to mob him at his apartment as soon as he tries to go home, so he ends up taking refuge in the Tower as well after only a day of harassment. Steve and Bucky are holed up in Steve’s apartment, and Clint gives them their space, taking to lurking around the edges of public spaces and raiding the kitchen at night so he’s less likely to run into anyone or become part of one of Tony’s experiments. 

He can’t avoid being social forever, unfortunately. Natasha shows up at his door and drags him into the tv room off the public kitchen, where Tony and Bruce are already debating the merits of various shows that are older than they are. Natasha shoves Clint in the direction of the couch and goes to make popcorn in the kitchen. Before Clint can disappear while she’s distracted, Steve shows up in the doorway, Bucky trailing after him, hands tucked in the pocket of the hoodie he’s wearing. 

“Clint,” Steve says, surprised. “How are you doing?” he asks warmly. 

“Um. I’m okay,” he says. Bucky’s head whips around, his eyes locking on Clint, and he’s across the room in half a second. It’s enough to startle both Natasha and Tony into drawing weapons, but Bucky just wraps Clint in a tight hug and sniffs at him. 

“I missed you, gorgeous,” he says, not bothering to keep quiet. 

Clint glances at the surprised faces around them and Steve’s smile, then ducks his head against Bucky’s shoulder, hiding his face in the folds of his hoodie. “Missed you too, alpha,” he murmurs back. 

“Hey, is that popcorn? You gonna share?” Steve asks. 

“Get your own, Rogers,” Natasha says. “What are we watching?” 

“Wait, hold up. Why is everyone acting casual about this? How long has this been going on?” Tony demands as Bucky’s nose finds Clint’s neck. A shiver runs through Clint as Steve answers. 

“It’s not new, Tony.” 

“How long?” Tony demands again. 

“Years.” 

“ _Years?_ Hawkeye has been consorting with the Winter Soldier for years?” 

“Yes, and Bucky is very protective,” Steve says as Bucky starts up a sub-audible growl. 

“Why am I only just finding this out?” Tony asks. “I thought we didn’t keep secrets on this team.” Clint flinches and Bucky’s head turns so he can snarl at Tony.

“Tony—” Steve starts.

“No,” Tony cuts him off. “You bring this guy straight from prison and years of brainwashing and murder, flaunting his alpha scent all over the place, and now he’s cuddling up to Hawkeye like they’re bonded even though I know there is no bond mark on either of them, you don’t get to tell me I’m being unreasonable for asking questions in my own home.”

Bucky rips himself away from Clint and stalks toward Tony.

“Yeah, come at me, knothead,” Tony challenges.

“Tony, stop. Bucky, you can’t fight him,” Steve says, putting himself between them, facing Bucky. “Just take Clint and go, I’ll come find you later when we’ve settled this.” Bucky glares at him, nose to nose, and then comes back to throw an arm around Clint’s shoulders and herd him into the elevator, glaring back at Tony the whole time. The elevator stops on Steve’s floor, and Bucky nearly stumbles over the threshold when Clint doesn’t follow him out.

“Clint?” Bucky says softly, standing just on the other side of the doors. Clint wraps his arms around himself and looks away.

“He’s right. Keeping secrets big enough to compromise everyone isn’t what teams are supposed to do,” Clint says. Bucky steps back into the elevator and cups Clint’s face in both hands.

“But you did it to keep us safe, didn’t you? That’s okay. You think they would have let you keep seeing me if you’d told them?” Bucky asks.

“That was just me being selfish,” Clint says, shaking his head. Bucky holds him still and meets his eyes.

“Then we can be selfish together,” he says. “Come lie with me. Steve has the softest pillows in this place.” He takes Clint’s hands and gently tugs, looking hopeful, until Clint follows him out of the elevator. He leads him straight to Steve’s bedroom, where Steve and Bucky’s scents are so mingled, he knows they’ve been sharing the bed. He pauses again, and Bucky stops and turns to face him. “What’s wrong, gorgeous?” 

“You’ve been sleeping with Steve,” Clint says, eyes fixed on the bed. 

“Yes?” Bucky looks at the bed and then glances at him. “Steve has nightmares about losing me,” he murmurs, “and I…don’t like sleeping alone. I wake up not knowing where I am. This fixes both problems.” 

“Steve won’t mind if you bring me into his bed?” Clint asks. 

“The bed is big enough for three people. And you’re his friend, gorgeous. He won’t mind.” Bucky’s fingers curl into the hem and sleeve of Clint’s shirt until Clint takes a deep breath and steps forward, letting Bucky take him to the bed. They curl up on top of the sheets, Bucky wrapping Clint in his arms and leaning in to cover his face in slow, soft kisses. Clint slowly melts under Bucky’s touch, sinking into the mattress. For once, their intimacy isn’t hot, hard, and frantic, and it makes Clint ache deep inside. 

“What’s wrong, gorgeous?” Bucky murmurs, nosing at the thin skin under his ear. “You smell like you’re hurting.” 

“I just…never thought I’d get to have this,” Clint says, reaching up to comb his fingers through Bucky’s hair. 

“You can. You can have it as much as you want.” Bucky kisses him sweetly, and Clint can’t help moaning softly. 

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” Steve asks from the doorway, making both of them turn to look. The tension that had snapped Bucky’s spine straight seeps back out of him when he sees it’s just Steve, and he purrs and nuzzles Clint’s cheek. 

“Hey, Steve,” he says. 

“Hey, Buck.” Steve steps into the room and closes the door behind him, and Clint can’t make himself feel awkward as Steve sits on the bed next to him. Steve has already seen him in all sorts of compromising positions, and Bucky’s warmth and scent are clouding his senses, making him feel soft and sweet and syrupy-slow. 

“Hi, Steve. Sorry for taking over your bed,” Clint says. 

Steve just smiles. “It’s alright, Clint. I’ve talked to Tony and the others, no one will bother you for a while. They’ll probably have some questions, but those can wait a few days.” 

“Thanks, Steve,” Bucky says. 

“Speaking of questions, I believe Bucky has one for you, Clint,” Steve continues, raising an eyebrow. 

“For me?” Clint looks at Bucky, who suddenly seems bashful. 

Bucky takes a deep breath. “Clint, will you bond with me?” 

Clint blinks at him, and then tilts his head to look at Steve. “Am I dreaming?” 

“I promise, you’re not dreaming,” Steve says with a chuckle. 

Clint looks back at Bucky, who’s waiting impatiently. “Yes, of course, alpha.” Bucky grins, bright and beautiful, and leans in towards his neck. “Shouldn’t we, uh, wait a few days?” 

“Why?” Bucky asks, frowning at him. 

“In case you…change your mind?” Clint offers. 

“I’m not going to change my mind, gorgeous. I love you,” Bucky says. 

“Oh.” Clint swallows. “Okay, then.” 

“Here, sit up, it’ll be easier,” Steve says, helping them get untangled. He keeps a hand on Clint’s back as Bucky leans in, kissing his neck before setting his teeth to the skin and biting down. 

Clint gasps, a flood of new emotions and sensations he’s never experienced before flooding through him. He loses track of what happens for a while, and when his senses return, he’s lying on the bed again, sandwiched neatly between Steve and Bucky, who both have their arms around him. 

“Thought you didn’t share,” Clint mumbles. 

“It’s different with Steve,” Bucky says, meeting Steve’s eyes over Clint’s shoulder. Steve nuzzles close, squeezing Clint where his arms are wrapped around his waist. 

“Rest, Clint. We’ll both be here when you wake up,” Steve says, pressing a kiss behind his ear. 

“Okay.” Clint sighs and leans back against Steve’s chest, Bucky pressing in close to his front. “Love you, alpha,” he murmurs as he drifts off. 

~~

Clint lets a few weeks pass before he shows up at Coulson’s desk, holding out a form that he’s filled out. It’s the most complete one he’s ever done, because it’s the most important one he’s ever done. Coulson takes it, frowns at it, and then looks up at him. 

“A bonding notice?” he asks. 

“Yes, sir.” Clint turns his head slightly and taps a finger on Bucky’s bite. Coulson scans the form for his partner’s name and then stands up, coming around the desk. Clint goes tense, not sure what he’s gonna do, but Coulson just holds his arms out with a smile. 

“I’m happy for you, Clint,” he says. Clint returns the smile and steps forward into the hug. 

“Thanks, boss.” 

“I still think you deserved better than to wait around for so long, but I’m glad you finally have this.” 

“Me too.” 

“And he makes you happy?” 

“What are you, my dad?” Clint asks, rolling his eyes. Coulson just looks at him. Clint blushes and rubs the back of his head. “Happier than I’ve ever been in my life.” 

“Good.” Coulson smiles again and turns to pick up the form. “I’ll make sure this gets filed discreetly.” 

“Thanks, Coulson.” 

Coulson turns and heads for the door, turning back before he leaves. “Oh and, Barton.” 

Clint turns and looks at him. 

Coulson nods to him. “Congratulations. I wish you all happiness.” 

Clint grins. “Thanks, Phil.” 


End file.
